The Case of the Lost Year
by Corlee
Summary: Captain Swan AU-1942 Noir: Detective Emma Swan, despite almost throwing in the towel as the only female detective in a working world of men, is intrigued by a case brought on by a mysterious stranger named Killian Jones. The case soon becomes all too personal and Emma soon gets thrown into a world of gangsters, tricksters and magic to find a family she forgot she had.
1. Prologue

Boston, 1942

The sun had begun to set and its warm light began filtering in through the blinds onto the mahogany desk. The warm, late summer air fell stagnant in the room and the steel fan in the corner blew particles of dust across fractals of prismatic light.

Emma was beyond tired.

She kicked off her heels and dropped in the chair, listening to the music of the air blowing between the fan blades and the honks of new Chevys in the street below. Her door was closed so she lost all sense of propriety, or rather the little she had left of it. She propped both her feet onto the edge of the desk, releasing and stretching her toes from the weary day. After a few quiet moments, she released an exhausted breath and opened her purse, aching for a cigarette. She found her lighter and clicked until a small bit of welcoming flame erupted in front of her eyes. She paused before she lit it, contemplating the past few hours. She didn't have the patience to deal with many more. She watched the flame dance in front of her, swaying back and forth. The light changed from a deep orange, to yellow, to a hint of blue before reverting back to the citrus glow. She was reminded of when she was a child and the few birthday candles she had the pleasure of blowing out. Such a small token to hold onto, so much hope in a small flicker of fire. Nevertheless, she closed her eyes and let the warmth go from the front of her mind, to her chest down to the tips of her toes before she lit the cigarette and closed the lighter shut. She inhaled the nasty concoction, filled up her lungs and blew out a cloud of smoke and stress.

She hadn't been getting many cases and she knew why. Word spread around Boston with sharp tongues. A female detective? _Ridiculous_. Doing the work of men? Handling men? Getting tough and relinquishing lady-like rules?_ Inexcusable_. Emma wanted to sock each one of them in the nose. And the sad thing was, she could. She could box with the best of them. The adopted daughter of an army general and a stubborn, independent mother raising her amongst other boys surely had its influence. Emma took another long drag to cease the memory before putting it out completely in the ashtray.

Emma opened the drawer to the desk and pulled out her compact mirror and lipstick. She applied a fresh shade of coral onto her lips and fixed some flyaways from her curls before she realized that it was a lost cause. She put the mirror away and pulled out her gun instead. Now _that_ made her just a little bit happy. She found her kerchief in her satchel and rubbed the pistol of any dust it may have gathered. It had been her father's gun and most trusted friend. After a careful inspection, she placed it carefully in her purse and pressed her finger on the intercom right next to it.

"Ruby?"

"Yes, ma'am?" a voice buzzed back.

"Feel free to leave a little early. I'm about to head home myself."

"Oh, thank you ma'am, but I was just about to ring you. It appears that you have a last minute visitor. No appointment."

Emma's first instinct was to look at her gun. She never took appointments, never had enough clientele to need appointments. The phrase was simply code to Emma that the person waiting was of suspicious character and one must be careful of their presence.

But business was business and she needed the money. She buzzed Ruby again. "No problem, Ruby. Please show them in."

"Will do, ma'am...but I'll stay until you finish." Emma smiled, glad to have someone to protect her. Ruby too could beat a man senseless, if only with just her coat and bag. Emma swept the dust off her desk with her hand and kept the gun in her line of sight. She straightened out her blouse and sat up in her seat.

A dark silhouette grew larger in the frosted glass of the doorway, a shadow so dark that it blended with the lettering of her name on the door. It dissolved in her sight like black, wisped smoke. A heavy knock came and reverberated throughout the room. "Come in," she said, her hands on the armrests of her chair. The door creaked open and a tall man came in through the smoke and glass. He had dark hair, gelled all to the side but with a lock of stubborn hair leaning over his forehead. A couple of weeks' worth of stubble sat on his long face. The angles of his cheekbones were sharper than daggers and probably killed many a woman's innocence with them alone.

"Detective Swan?" He was a foreigner from overseas, that much she could tell from the way he spoke her name on his lips. "My apologies for the short notice. I have been searching for you for a long time and the matter was one of urgency." He walked in, shutting the door behind him and stepped into the twilight of the room. He wore a blue, long sleeved shirt and dark slacks with suspenders. His coat was draped across his left arm, his left hand holding a fedora that he had surely taken off in Ruby's presence. He walked closer and he looked at her with intent. Her hand twitched and rested on the desk close to the pistol. She stuck out her other hand for a polite shake. He was quick to oblige and smiled as he did so. "Killian, Killian Jones."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Jones," she said, her confidence flowing back into her body. He continued to watch her, his eyes darting back and forth with anticipation, almost as if he had expected a much more cordial welcoming. Emma could feel a spark of curiosity in the air and she held onto the string of it. "Now, how can I help you?"

Her words broke his trance and he waited until she sat in order to sit in the chair opposite hers. She took out her cigarettes and offered him one. "No thank you," he muttered nervously. She flicked her eyebrows up in surprise. Rare to find a man who kept his lungs clean, especially in this town.

"Do you mind?" she asked as she took out one for herself.

"Not at all." He half smiled. It did bother him and Emma read it like an open page, so she proceeded with keeping his comfort level at a necessary minimum. As soon as she puffed out a delicate cloud from her mouth, he opened his own to speak. "Forgive me, I don't quite know where to start."

She leaned back in her chair. "The beginning is always nice."

"Well, I don't know about that. Beginnings are not as important as endings. It's better to start with where things stand now, I suppose." He was hiding something. Emma could read lies on a person's face like no other and her intuition was almost always spot on; a necessary gift for any gumshoe. But there weren't any lies yet. "Detective Swan, I've traveled a long way and waited what seems like ages to find you. I had a plan in my head of what to do and say but none of it matters now. The fact remains that your family is in trouble."

Emma leaned forward in her chair and hung the cigarette loosely between two fingers over the ashtray. "What are you talking about?"

"Your mother and father, your friends, they need your help. I'll tell you more on the way, but you must come with me."

Emma watched his movements. His fingers were shaking and his knee fidgeted up and down in a cynical rhythm. There were faint laugh lines from youth on the corners of his lips, ones that hadn't been creased for quite sometime. His eyes were locked on hers and were swimming with something other than the last rays of daylight. There was memory in those eyes, things Emma couldn't see but had a strong connection to. Emma rose up quickly and grabbed the pistol from her purse, aiming it directly at his face. He stood up immediately, urgency filling in his chest. He closed his eyes and sighed as if he had anticipated the reaction. Fear was something rare in his line of work, whatever it was. "Get. out," she spoke, her words enunciated with the ice in her tone.

"Detective, you must believe me-"

"_Out_," she said again, cocking the pistol. He rose his hand up, resigning to her tenacity, but did not move. Emma's other hand pressed the intercom button, her eyes never leaving his. "Ruby, Mr. Jones will be leaving now. If he isn't out of the building in two minutes, please call the police as I will surely put a hole in his chest."

The intercom buzzed immediately. "Shit, yes ma'am."

"Your last warning, Jones." She motioned to the direction of the door with a slight movement of her pistol. "Time is wasting."

He took a deep breath. "Emma, please."

She furrowed her eyebrows, swallowing down the lump in her throat at the sound of her name. She had heard that sound of her first name coming from his voice before. She heard it far away, in a dream or nightmare she wasn't sure. It was a memory left alone and forgotten in the dark begging for an open door. "Who are you? What do you want?"

A half smile came and went on his face but it was one of relief and not malice. "All I want is to save your family and take you home back to Storybrooke."

Emma felt her chest constrict and she snuffed the cigarette in the ashtray, the ash hissing in the tense silence between their words. This man was not hiding anything trivial, but he surely was a lunatic. The connection remained and the only resolution was to either follow it or sever it. Emma looked in his eyes one last time and saw a hint of magic looking back at her. She pulled the trigger, releasing thunder and metal into the air without remorse.


	2. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

The smoke from the gun swam in the air in a sultry dance, drawing the other particles in with its magnetism. Emma had barely flinched. Killian, however, had fallen squarely onto the ground, his coat and fedora in shambles around him. Emma heard a loud scream and footsteps running to her door. Ruby barged in, her red cape coat askew and matching heels skidding on the tile, some brown curls pulling apart from her perfectly combed coif. She looked at Emma, standing there with the blowing gun and then at the mysterious visitor on the ground. "Jesus Emma, _you said two minutes_!" Ruby heard a groan and noticed the man moving. "Oh, thank god."

"Ruby, would you kindly get me a bandage and some water for Mr. Jones here?"

"Yes, ma'am," she said, annoyance floating in her voice. She sighed another breath of relief before she closed the door. Emma put the gun down and leaned against the desk, her hands behind her.

"Now then, Mr. Jones, that was your warning. I may be in need of money, but I don't take kindly to maniacal men."

"Understood," Killian said, flinching as he tried to get up off the floor. The bullet had grazed his arm and went through the wall behind him, just as she had intended. Crimson began to seep into the cerulean fabric of his shirt. It was then that Emma noticed what his coat and hat had been hiding. He didn't have a left hand. The fabric of the shirt was neatly tucked and pinned over where the appendage ended. Killian, all too familiar with stares, immediately followed her eyes to his arm and smiled, wincing from the small gash. "Yes, well, I've taken more shots at my character than the fact that I'm a cripple so I wouldn't feel too bad, darling."

"Oh, I don't feel bad at all. I'm an equal opportunity shooter," she told him, offering her hand to help him up. "Now, Mr. Jones, you're going to sit in this chair and you're going to tell me exactly what you know about my family and I'll decide if I need to help you or not." He obliged her offered hand and sat down, wincing as the oxygen cinged the open wound. Ruby came in with a first aid kit and a glass of water. She sat the kit on the desk and gave the water to Killian with shaking hands. He gave her a wink in thanks, sending the blood up to Ruby's cheeks. "Thank you, Ruby. That will be all." Ruby straightened out her blouse and tried to hide her smile as she walked out of the office. Emma opened up the kit and took out the alcohol and bandages, organizing them on the table.

"You're different," Killian muttered, watching her up and down.

Emma spun some bandage out from its roll and ripped off a considerable amount. "What do you mean?" Emma saw him trying to find the appropriate words. She had a feeling he was the kind to react before rationalizing so for him to struggle was a little...off.

"How you speak, walk, everything. It's like your life before…" His words trailed off as she walked closer to him with an alcohol soaked pad of gauze. With her fingertips, she gripped his arm and tore his shirt where the bullet had grazed. Her touch warmed him, like he had never hurt at all. "Darling, if you wanted me to take my clothes off, you could've just said so." She smiled at him and pressed the gauze hard onto his arm. He hissed, clenching his knee with white knuckles.

Emma rolled her eyes at him. "Please, don't be such a baby." He looked at her again, wanting nothing more than to touch her, to feel her delicate curls brush against his face. "Still waiting, Mr. Jones. Next time, I won't do the courtesy of fixing you up afterwards," she said, her voice raised as she wrapped his arm carefully with the bandage and tied a loose knot. She locked glances with him for just a moment too long and felt drawn in.

"Thank you, my lady," he whispered to her, his breath strong of cinnamon and salt water. A flicker of a smile crept on her lips before she turned her back to him. He picked up his coat and hat from the floor and kept them in his lap. Emma sat across from him, anxious now, but happy that she got her point across. Killian cleared his throat, organizing proper thoughts. "Detective Swan, I've come a long way-"

"Yeah pal, you said that already. Tell me something I don't know."

"Not just for you, you see. But for the safety of your son."

Emma's eyes widened, though she tried hard not to show it at first. "What do you know about my son?"

"His name is Henry, and he's about 10 years old, big believer in tall tales, I'd imagine?"

"And how could you possibly know that?"

"Because Emma, he was a lost boy, as I was. But we helped to find him again and when bad things happened back home, you both were lost again to all of us."

"All of _us_?"

"Your family."

"Yeah, you keep saying _my_ family, when the family I know is safe here in Boston. What exactly is your point here, Jones?" Panic started drowning her and it ached him to see fear in her face again. He had sworn to himself that he would never cause her pain.

"Emma, listen. Your family-your birth family-lives in a town named Storybrooke. They are in danger and I have been looking for you and your son for a long time to bring you to them, to bring you back home." Emma felt her chest starting to heave. There was no sense in hiding anymore. Birth family? For as long as she remembered trying, she could never find hide nor hair of them. Their mystery was the entire reason she fought to become a detective in the first place. To her now, they didn't exist. The only family she needed was Henry and those just a telegram away. She regarded Killian with suspicion, but the sudden realization that this could be a chance to find out the answer to the number one question for any orphan-_why?_-was way too good to pass up. Killian was at a loss. There really wasn't a more practical way to say it and she needed to know. "Emma, believe it or not, I'm here to help you."

"And why you? What's in it for you?" Killian looked up from underneath his eyelashes, framing his hurt eyes. An odd sensation of being on the ocean made her stomach lurch.

"You may not remember, but we were friends once. And I made a promise to you back then. I don't intend on ever breaking it." A complete lunatic, Emma thought. But his voice. It was an echo bouncing across neurons and blood vessels and star maps in her mind. There's no way that I could know him, could I? she thought. "Swan?" he asked, watching her movements with worried tension.

"Shut up, I'm thinking." He pursed his lips immediately but didn't look away. After agonizing seconds ticked by, Emma finally conceded. "Okay, okay, what exactly do I need to do here?"

Killian smiled. "That's a good lass. The answer lies with the Emerald King." To Killian's surprise, Emma slammed her hand on the table and stood up, anger fueling in her face.

"The Emerald King? Is this some kind of joke?"

"Emma, I-"

"The Emerald King doesn't exist. I have been trying to hunt him down for corrupt acts in this city for years. He has a whole network of spies and gangsters and no one ever talks. They get caught, they take a shot, they don't squeal and they go free. There's been no evidence of his actual presence."

"Oh, he quite real, love. But you've always known that, haven't you?"

Emma didn't know which prospect was more rewarding now: the meeting of her birth family or the possible catch of the Emerald King, her white whale. Both seemed too good to be true, yet it had more than her attention. "Yes, he has to be."

"We can catch him, Emma. And once he gives us what we need, we can rescue your family and you and Henry can come back home."

"No," she said. She looked at the picture frame sitting in the corner of her desk. It was of her, Henry and her father, the two men that she would sacrifice everything for...again. She closed her eyes and blinked away the tears. What would they do? What would they say? "Henry stays out of this," she finally told him, a small lump in her throat. "We do this, I do whatever I need to do to help your friends and I come back here. This is my home."

Killian felt like the world could crumble at any moment, but he took in a deep breath and bowed his head. "As you wish, my lady."

The words rang in her ears like a melody and she smiled even though she hadn't meant to. Emma looked at him as he stood up. He put on his coat with ease, straightening out the lapels and brushing off the dust from the floor. He flipped his fedora and landed it on his head as if it had floated there by itself. He was handsome to a fault and she knew he probably used that to his advantage more times than most. She wouldn't fall for that. She _couldn't_ fall for that. "I have to make arrangements. I need to take Henry to his grandma's. I need to pick up some supplies."

"Supplies?"

Emma put the gun in her purse, throwing in the cigarettes shortly after. "Files, camera and lots of bullets. If we're going up against the King, we need to do it right. We start now, let's go." They walked out of the office, passing Ruby's desk. "Leaving for the night, Ruby. Go home and stay safe. Chances are I won't be in tomorrow so lock up tight."

"Yes, ma'am. Should I call Mr. Jones a cab?"

"No, he's coming with me," she said, grabbing her coat off the rack in the corner. She looked over at Ruby who was eyeing her with great surprise. A smirk appeared on her lips and she crossed her arms with gratification. "Oh, wipe the smile, Ruby. You're a working girl, be more professional."

"_Yes_, ma'am. _Have fun tonight_, ma'am." She mmhmm'd to herself as Killian held the door open for Emma.

Emma rolled her eyes, grabbed the bottom of Killian's jacket and sprinted out the door into the dusk evening. _What had she gotten herself into?_


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

Emma, with Killian lingering too close for comfort, walked as quickly as her heels could carry her around the building and into the alley where her buttercup yellow Chevy lay nestled and waiting for life to be returned to it. It was an older model but it was always her faithful steed. Killian hung back for a brief moment, a small smile creeping onto his face. Emma wrestled for her keys in her bag, silently cursing at herself. She found the key and put her hand out to open the door. Killian beat her to it and opened it for her, his face hovering over her with shadowed intention. She slipped in and watched as he sprinted to get into the other side before she had the notion of driving off without him. The thought had crossed her mind as soon as she walked out of the office but she quickly disregarded it to avoid less trouble than this was already turning out to be. She drove like a demon up and down the road, counting the streets left until she could get home to Henry. In her peripheral vision, she noticed Killian gripping the interior of the door for stability. She chuckled to herself as he closed his eyes, his lids tighter than his secrets.

They arrived moments-and two ran red lights later-to a tall, brownstone complex, a flower box adorning the window on the second floor and the anxious face of an adventurous boy peering down to them. The figure moved as soon as Emma closed her door and Killian did the same. "Okay, some rules," she told him as he met her by the front door. His hand clutched his hurt arm briefly with a small wince of pain but he met her gaze immediately, a soldier at complete and admiring attention. "I do the talking. You don't say a thing about what's going on. You sit there and-"

"Look pretty?" Killian finished, a finger tipping the edge of his hat. "Not a problem, love."

"Yeah and don't call me that," she added, mumbling as she walked through the front door. She saw him laugh, knowing that he had no intention of stopping. They walked up the stairs and Emma heard the front door open, Henry peeking his face in between the frame. Emma smiled, looking at his small features that were inexplicably hers and thought the same thought she had had every day since he was born-what a change of fortune he was. "Hi, Henry," she said in a playful tone. She watched as Henry stared up at Killian's tall frame.

"Are you a gangster?" Henry said at once, Emma's eyes widening and her hand going straight to his mouth.

"Henry! Manners, please."

"Sorry, mom," he mumbled through her fingers. "I'm Henry," he introduced as soon as her hand left his face. He stuck his own hand out-or rather, up-to Killian to shake. Always a proper gentleman, but never shy. Emma had certainly been proud of that trait. She watched him as she set her things down and grabbed an even bigger bag from the coat closet.

"Killian Jones, young sir, pleasure is all mine." Killian sighed, recollecting lost details that he had certainly missed. Emma noticed the sadness in his face as she walked past him, his features lowering, his shoulders sinking just enough to let a piece of honesty slip through. He had lost someone too, someone very much like Henry. He shook Henry's hand and took his hat off promptly after. The shadows on his face lingered for a fraction longer than they were supposed to and Emma immediately thought of dark magicians and haunted forests. A shiver went through her spine and she walked up to Henry, her arm going over her shoulder.

"Henry, I have to take care of a pretty big case so you have to stay with grandma for a little bit, okay?"

"Ooh, what kind of case? Are there gangsters?"

"Yes, it's gangsters," she half lied as she pushed him into his room. "So that means it's going to be a very dangerous mission and you have to stay safe, okay buddy? Now, pack a good bag and be ready in 5 minutes sharp. Starting...now!" He laughed and rushed around his room, keeping his priorities in order and grabbing a set of books and toys first. She motioned for Killian to join her in her small office next to her bedroom.. She pulled out a box nestled under her desk and grabbed a large stack of files from it. Dust filled the last light coming into the room, floating and clogging up her nose. "I have copies of every single case that could possibly be related to the Emerald King. I have enough material to put that bastard away for life. I've been planning this moment for a very long time." Her eyes drifted to a picture frame on her desk, a small sigh erupting from the bottom of her throat. She stopped to gain her composure. She felt like she hadn't taken a breath since leaving the office. All around her were ghosts; in picture frames, mirrors and stories only being played out in dreams. She looked up to find Killian watching her with guarded eyes once more. "He took a lot from me. And everyone who he's bought off told me that he doesn't exist. But I will find him and he will pay. And if this doesn't pan out, Killian Jones, I will kick the utter crap out of you, got it?"

"Open invitation, love."

Emma shuffled through papers and files, selecting specific pages and quickly glancing over others. She had poured over these for countless days and nights, dog earring the tops of pages, chewing the edges of her nails as her eyes memorized every letter and word. She folded the pages with care and slid them into a manila envelope. She grabbed the bag from the coat closet and stuffed the envelope inside. "Henry, you ready yet?" she called out, a small part of her being distracted by Killian's subtle movements in her office. The room was small and stacked to the brim with yellowed newspapers, books and mementos from another life. He looked like a giant standing in the door frame, his well-dressed limbs unfamiliar with the new environment. He had a vague air that he was both comfortable and anxious all at the same time. "You okay there, pal?"

"Just thinking," was his simple answer. He stuffed his left wrist in his pocket and shuffled his body weight from right to left. His answer would suffice for now, though Emma could read between the lines.

"Ready, mom!" Henry called out, racing past the office and heading towards the door.

"Don't you go out in that hallway, Henry. Wait for me please." A small groan echoed down into the office and Killian let out a small laugh that echoed in Emma's ears. She paused for a moment, taking in the cadence in his _tsk_ and the air leaving his lips. She licked her own then, an odd reflex, and closed up all of her belongings. "Alright, let's go." He followed her, his shadow connecting with hers in some odd arrangement of light and time and purpose. Killian smiled as he watched, taking in the natural magnetism. It settled in his heart, shivering away the cold of the past year. Emma did a final check of the home before locking up and the parade made its way to her car below. Henry was all smiles as they got into the backseat, a book in one hand and his other clutched to the shoulder of Killian's seat in excitement. "You do know you're just going to grandma's, right?" Emma laughed as she threw the bag next to Henry and crawled into the driver's seat. It was not to put a damper on his spirits but to keep his hopes safe.

"Yeah, yeah I know, but it's different this time."

Killian looked back at him, a stitch of his own hope lingering in his eyes. It was the only fire left that kept him going and it had been paying off so far. "How do you know, mate?"

Henry sat down, taking in Killian's face, his eyebrows furrowing and questioning. The pieces were fitting together and Killian could see it. As quick as the moment came, it went, Henry returning to his jovial self. Killian knew that he wouldn't brush it under the rug for too long. He was his mother's son after all. The thought would grow like a magic bean inside his mind, fermenting and weaving through secrets and unlocking them from its prison. "I don't know. It's just _different_, I can tell. Mom says I'm going to be a great detective when I'm older. I have the...what's it called, Mom?"

"Intuition."

"Yeah, intuition!"

"You got a lot of things that's for sure," she joked, putting the Chevy into gear and pulling out into the street. Killian clutched his knee once more, hating the speed but enjoying every moment of exhilaration Emma fed him.


End file.
